After Meals, it's Time for Mystery
by K.Haruyuki
Summary: Collection of books written by Lord Victor Mikhailovich Nikiforov-Okukawa in the 19th century, reporting his adventures along with former illusionist thief who calls himself Lupine around the world in search of 'Katsuki' paintings. Contains: Murder - Investigation - Mystery - Year 1853 - Sex - Gender Bending - Illusionism


**Inspirations for this collection of stories: Nazotoki wa Dinner no Ato de , Magic Kaito and Detective Conan**

 **Inspirations for the first Book: Murder on the Orient Express**  
 **Story telling the past of Victor and Yuuri will be in the second collection of birthdays, which I will start in October.**  
 **Each book will be posted at once. At the moment, only this first one is planned.**  
 **Victor is the author of these books.**  
 **Yuuri here is adopted by Minako Okukawa. And they are married because he pretended to be Minako. But no one knows.**  
 **There may be flaws in the historical context used in this fic. I'll try to make her as faithful as possible.**  
 **The first trip from St Petersburg to Moscow took 19 hours. I will be using this same time period in this fic**.

 **I don't have a beta, and English is not my first language, so, of course there will be some misspelled words or grammatical errors. Please, if you spot it, leave a review/comment and I will do my best to fix it. Thank you.**

 **I also have now twitter. Just check einnosekai.**

 **~x~**

 _ **Saint Petersburg - November 1853**_

 _ **Moskovsky Train Station**_

 _ **~ x ~**_

"Train to Moscow!" Someone screams in the midst of so many people awaiting the release of the locomotive that would leave St. Petersburg to Moscow. "All aboard!"

I open a smile when an employee, with black hair, brown eyes, almost my height and Asian features, comes close to me.

"Mr. Nikiforov? The special cabin is ready for you." He says, lifting his suitcases and turning away.

I, with a cane in his gloved right hand, straighten the hat on his head, and walk after him.

"Grand Duchess Okukawa wishes you a good trip. She is waiting for you in Moscow." The employee says, when he finishes accommodating me in one of the most expensive cabins of the locomotive.

"Thank you very much." I say, knowing that the last part is a lie.

After all, Grand Duchess Okukawa is on this train.

I take a notebook, eraser and pencil out of my briefcase, already beginning to write, while I wait for other passengers to board and the train to leave.

 **...**

"Mr. Nikiforov." A waiter says, greeted me in the dining car.

The waiter goes to an empty table, placing an empty plate, cutlery and a white napkin on it. I sit down at the table, putting the napkin on my lap. The waiter serves me with a plate of sandwiches, Borsch, Pirozhky and tea, along with jam.

In that same car, I notice the presence of several illustrious people. Nikolai Illyanovich and Yuri Romanov Plisetsky, Yakov Petrovich Feltsman, Ludmila Evgenova Babicheva, Lilia Alexiana Baranoskaya and Georgi Yullianovisky Popovich. Apart from the boy Yuri, who must be there just to accompany his grandfather, everyone there is influential, especially in the world of the arts. Other passengers are also present there, but they are only the ones that really matter.

I approach the waiter from before, who gives me a wink. I nod, a message that only he would understand.

"Bring me some more tea at 10 o'clock." I tell him, he smiles.

"Yes, Mr. Nikiforov." He says, and I withdraw from the car, back to my cabin, where I write some more.

 _'..._

 _Nikolay Plisetsky is a lord who had lost everything in the hands of Lord Cialdini before he was exposed by Lupin the thief._ _He managed to get back part of his fortune thanks to this, but not totally._ _His son, Roman Nikolaievich Plisetsky, died of disease._ _The widow abandoned her son, returning to her parents' house._

 _Mila Babicheva is a countess, one of the most influential people in Russia, famous for engaging in sex with other women and promoting parties full of liquor, drugs and sex._ _This until she had her collection of pictures stolen just as she had fun with one of them._ _Pictures that went to Lord Cialdini's hands._ _Got back some of the paintings thanks to Lupin._

 _Georgi Popovich is an arts gallery owner, who became famous years ago for displaying three pictures of Katsuki._ _Also ended up being the target of Lord Cialdini and had part of the pictures returned by Lupin._

 _Lilia Baranoskaya is a woman of great concept._ _A direct descendant of Tsar Nikolai's family I. As a young woman, she fell in love and married, but decided to leave her husband when rumors engulfed him and important objects of art began to disappear from his house and into Lord Cialdini's hands._ _Again, Lupin arranged for most of the items to return to her._

 _And to finish, we have Yakov Feltsman._ _He is an art negotiator, who worked for both the house of Babicheva and the Plisetsky, as well as Popovich._ _He has been married to Lília Baranoskaya in the past, and one of his distributors is Lord Celestino Cialdini, an Italian who suddenly acquired his title and grew up in the art business by selling renowned works of art, including Katsuki paintings._ _With the appearance of Lupin and all the fraudulent schemes involving Cialdini being exposed, several people connected to him also suffered when being investigated by the police of each country._ _And Yakov Feltsman is one of those people._ _After all he resold masterpieces that Cialdini provided, among them, paintings by Katsuki, for people like Mila Babicheva, Georgi Popovich, Nikolai Plisetsky and Lilia Baranoskaya._

Two knocks on the door distract me from my writing, and I open a smile.

"Come in." I say, seeing the waiter before come up with a tray, with the teapot he'd ordered, jam, and a cup. "Thank you very much."

Obviously the pot is empty, after all the request for tea and just an excuse to have this man in my booth. The waiter closes the door and locks it, beginning to undress. Clearly he knows that's what I really want. _He wants me too._ I get up and go to him, helping him remove his clothes and sliding my hands down his handsome body.

" _Zoloste_ , can I have you now?" I ask, seeing the man in my arms smirks to me.

"Always, My Vitenka." He also undresses me, sliding his hands down my body.

I kiss him, sliding my hands down his waist to his hips and lifting him up. I let out a groan as I felt myself rubbing against him, with our cocks already hardening in our pants. I lay him on the bed, removing his pants and unbuttoning mine, then start preparing his ass with my tongue, before penetrating him. The penetration is slow and pleasurable for both of us, surrounded by our moans echoing through the cabin. We spent the night like that, having sex on a train that is traveling from Saint Petersburg to Moscow.

It's still night when I wake up and I see the man standing, wearing a different uniform from before. A concierge's uniform. I pout, regretting not being able to spend more time with him.

"Are you already going?" I ask, seeing him look at me with a smile.

"Of course." He responds, approaching me and giving me a kiss on my lips. "I have an important job to do."

"How could I forget that?" I mean, sitting on the bed. "See you later?"

"You should know my answer, Vitenka. Only you are worthy of my heart, and of course we will meet later." He then leaves the room, and I lay back on the bed.

 _God, this man is incredible!_

I clocked the clock by the wall, yawning. Better to sleep the rest of the night. You never know what could happen ...

 **~ x ~**

I wake up to the sunrise and get up from bed, already returning to my writings, where I put into words the wonderful night I spent and more important details.

A loud knock on the door interrupts me and I bring my hand to my face, irritating me. Could not they just wait a little longer?

"I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, Mr. Nikiforov, but you're asked urgently." An unknown voice warns me and I get up from the chair, opening the door and looking at another concierge there, pale and frightened.

"What happened?" I ask, frowning.

"Someone is death, sir. And as you are a famous investigative journalist, your presence is requested to solve the mystery." Victor lets out a sigh and thanks the concierge, closing the door and changing clothes.

 **...**

My first stop is in the victim's room, which I regret to be Mr. Yakov Feltsman. I begin to examine his body with my gloved hands, taking note of the injuries caused by a knife or dagger, the stiffness and pallor of his skin, of strange odors that may be coming from the body. Then I look around the room, also taking note of the window, the strange papers in the trash, and a pencil on the floor. _Why would it be on the floor? Maybe because the open window? Hmm. How interesting._

"Where are the other passengers?" I ask the concierge, who was watching me from outside the cabin.

"One of us insisted that they go to the dinner car, to make sure that everyone is watched and the killer is prevented from making another victim." He responds and I smile.

"Then let's go there." I say, straightening my top hat and cane in hand, letting myself be guided by him to the wagon in question.

 **...**

 _"What the hell is happening?"_

 _"I heard it was a murder."_

 _"There's a death man on this train? How terrible!"_

 _"Why are we here? There's might be a murderer between us!"_

"Dedushka, what happened?" Victor listens to Yuri Romanov Plisetsky ask Nikolai, who is sitting next to him.

"Nothing, Yurochka. Nothing too much trouble for us."

Victor, who was thinking about talking about the murder aloud, changed his mind as he remembered the boy. He is too young to understand what is happening, so the grandfather himself explains to him. He also couldn't have enough strength to stick a knife into someone's body, so he's innocent. I look around, looking for a place where I could interrogate the people there privately. I come across a table a bit more isolated from the others. I take out my pocket watch, and I check the time. 6 hours and 47 minutes in the morning. The train departed at 7:00 p.m. St. Petersburg and the journey takes on average ... 19 hours, which means we have about 7 hours to get to Moscow. I close the watch and put it in my pocket. I go back to the concierge and ask.

"How much time do you have for breakfast?"

"Due to the incident, we ended up delaying the preparation a bit." He replies, and I nod. "Do you want anything?"

"Just serve it when I order, okay? I mean to interrogate everyone in this wagon, starting with you." I say, watching him be horrified.

"Yes, sir, I'll inform the others and I'll be right back." He says, asking leave and walking away. I go to the table, sitting so I can watch the other passengers discreetly. I pick up a notebook, just used it, and open it. I also take from my pockets my pencil and an eraser, already writing on the first page of my discoveries.

 **...**

 _Victim: Yakov Feltsman_

 _Found dead in his cabin, in the bed._

 _Stabbed 8 times while asleep._

 _Clearly a murder, no chance of him defending himself._

 _Wounds are deep, concentrated in the pectoral region of man._ _Stabbed in different positions, they show the killer's despair._

 _Estimated time of death: 2 am._

 _Alibis from whom I can confirm: My beloved, who spent the night with me._

 _Who would have reason to kill Mr. Feltsman: Georgi Popovich, Mila Babicheva, Nikolai Plisetsky, Lilia Baranoskaya and my beloved._ _(but I'm sure it was not him.)_

 _Notes:_

 _Papers in the victim's trash are threatening messages to him, using letters cut from newspapers to compose the messages._

 _I also could smell vodka from his mouth._

 _The window was a little open._

 **...**

The concierge sits down and I turn the sheet, writing the job's name at the top of the new page.

"Your name please?" I ask, looking at him.

"Illya Makarov." He says, biting his lower lip, very nervous.

"Could you tell me where you were at 2 am?" I ask, watching him take a deep breath.

"In my cabin, in the crew car, sleeping."

"When did you last see the victim?"

"At 11 pm He ordered a whole bottle of vodka after dinner and I delivered it to him in his booth at that time."

"Would he drink a bottle of vodka by himself?"

"No sir, he was accompanied the moment I arrived with the drink with a man."

"And how do you know it was a man?" I ask, curious about this information.

"By their voice, sir." Makarov responds, shaking.

"Something strange that you noticed tonight?" I ask, seeing him frown for a while until he raises his eyebrows in an expression of surprise.

"One of our waiters said that one of the crew cabins was locked at the beginning of the trip. He had confused it with his cabin number, but it's still strange, because from the window glass at the door, it was all dark inside." He replies, and I nod, surprised by this information and writing everything in the notepad.

"Okay, I already finished here. Can you call another employee for me?"

"Yes sir." Makarov says, sighing and rising in front of me.

I interviewed the rest of the staff, not gaining many new details. Except for the absence of one of the staff, and one of the concierges was ordered to watch over the Plisetsky boy while his grandfather was smoking outside the wagon at 4 am. Strange because it should be too cold to be outside at this time. Hmm, how interesting.

"How interesting." I listen and lift my face, seeing Countess Babicheva there, leaning against the table, with a thin cigarette holder with a lit cigar in her left hand, which is erected closet to her face.

I raise my eyebrows at her, surprised.

"Good morning, Countess." I say, standing up and greeting her with a kiss on her right hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Nikiforov, you're already doing your job, are not you?" She asks, smiling. "It's a shame Feltsman's old man died. He was a great man."

"They are beautiful words, to someone who is not at all sad about his death." I comment, watching her undo the smile of the lips that are now at the end of the cigar holder.

Suddenly, she hits both hands, which are wearing red gloves to the forearm and lower, making me see some of the breasts by the neckline of her black dress.

"I was forced to sell everything and learn to survive on my own, because I had my inheritance cut since my parents discovered what I was doing in my mansion. cause of them two, I ceased to be Countess, "she exclaims, astonishing me and drawing the attention of the other passengers and crew. "If that bastard Cialdini is the devil of the arts, it is not fair Feltsman to take the place of the devil."

"So you think Lord Feltsman knew about Lord Cialdini's schemes?" I ask, looking at her seriously.

"Of course! Why on earth would he take Cialdini to our house and showed it to him our entire collection?" She asks, and I'm surprised.

Now it makes sense in how Lord Ciadini knew where the paintings were to be stolen.

"Could you tell me where you were at 11 at night?" I ask, watching her look at me in surprise.

"Exactly here, talking to Madame Baranoskaya." She responds and I raise my eyebrow at her. "She needs an heir, and since she didn't have children with him, she decided to adopt me, now that I was disinherited by my parents, I'm quite happy about it, even though I'm very afraid of that woman."

"Hm, And at two o'clock in the morning?" I ask, watching her frown at me.

"Why?" She asks and I look at her seriously.

"Because I stated that Lord Feltsman passed away at this time." I answer, surprisingly.

"Oh!" She says, taking the cigarette back to her mouth. "I remember reading in the bed in my booth until late into the night, and I fell asleep with the book open on top of me."

"Okay, you noticed something strange between tonight and this morning."

"One of the staff is not here, you know, black hair, my height, I think he's Japanese or Chinese, you know?" She says, and I write everything she told me.

"Yes, yes, they told me about it." I mean, concentrating on the notebook.

"He must be the killer, you know? That's why he's not here." She comments and I stop writing.

"We can not judge without evidence." I tell her, trying to contain my anger. "Besides, he's not here because he's doing a request of mine. Anything else?"

"I don't think so, with your permission." She says, and gets up.

I see her return to other passengers and talk to each other. I notice that Madame Baranoskaya, Lord Popovich and Lord Plisetsky were there, listening to her too, with a surprised expression on her face.

They did not give me any other information except Madame Baranoskaya, who said to the former Countess's alibi at 11 pm and Mr Popovich, who claims to be the man who was with Mr Feltsman at that time to discuss with him and drink vodka to talk business. I'm getting tired and hungry, when I smell a delicious, familiar scent of cherry flower perfume. I get up and approach Makarov.

"You can serve breakfast." I say, and with a 'yes sir,' he obeys me.

When I return to the table, I notice that my notebook is no longer in it. I put my hand to my face, trying to hide the smile on my face.

So ' _he_ ' is here.

I sit down again at the table, picking up the other notebook and continuing to write about what happened on the train so far. I need to be quick, because soon ' _it_ ' will come to the face. I finish, and proceed to continue writing about Lord Cialdini before being interrupted.

 _'Lorde Celestino Cialdini is a man who grew up in the arts world, especially after the murder of the Katsuki family in the small town of Hasetsu, Japan. According to reports, Hiroko Katsuki, famous painter of the Katsukis paintings mentioned above;_ _her husband, Toshiya Katsuki, owner of a hot springs inn that was also home to the family;_ _and Mari Katsuki, the couple's eldest daughter, were found dead with a bullet in the head and immersed in one of the hot springs._ _The police, completely incompetent at that time, closed the case without any suspects two weeks later, leaving only the disappearance of the younger son, Yuuri Katsuki and Katsuki paintings to solve._ _In two months of investigation, Yuuri Katsuki was declared dead by police and the cadres as lost. It's been 10 years now._

 _Many say it was a coincidence, when months later Cialdini shocked the world by opening a gallery with Katsuki paintings._ _Immediately, offers came from all over the world, and Cialdini hired people like Yakov Feltsman to help track sales._ _For 7 years, Celestino sold pictures, and received a lot of money for it._ _And then, pictures began to disappear from museums, galleries and personal collections._ _It was crazy._ _And then, sound recordings of Celestino arose in the Police with another man, in which both talk about the thefts openly._ _A certain journalist from St. Petersburg received photos of Celestino and four other men invading, removing pictures and escaping from a residence in the city._ _Residence that belonged to Countess Babicheva._ _These same photos were later scattered all over the world, and then the surprise._ _Records and photos point to Celestino Cialdini at the Katsukis inn on the day of their death._ _And then, 'he' arose._

 _Lupin the Thief._ _In a single night, the whole stolen collection that was in Cialdini's possession ... was stolen._ _Or rather, returned to its owners._ _Except for the Katsukis paintings, of course._ _Lupine, on the other hand, returned the amount spent on money and the promise to go after the rest of the collections, which Cialdini had previously broken._

"Please forgive me. I'll go and get some breakfast for Miss." I listen, and I close my writings for now.

I stand up, and I notice that everyone there is looking in surprise at a light-haired woman, with a wide black hat and the long fringe falling down the sides of her face. Dark brown eyes, in a makeup face that doesn't hide the Asian features in that milky skin tone. She is wearing a long black short-sleeved dress with a slit that exposes her right leg almost all over, in her hands, a pair of long red gloves with bracelets adorn her wrists. She holds my notebook in one hand and the other, a gold cigar holder.

I swallow hard, approaching her and bending down, greeting her.

"Grand Duchess Okukawa. It is an honor to be in your presence again." I speak, making everyone present there surprise.

"Likewise, my dear Mr. Nikiforov." She says, swinging his notebook. "And I read some very interesting things about a certain murderer that happened last night. Interesting, yes, disappointing at the same time."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, using both hands to lean on my cane.

"First, we have the hour of death. You determined that it was at 2 am Interesting observation, were it not for the fact that the window of his room was semi-open. I would say an hour and a half later, or maybe two, and with this, the alibis of everyone you investigated are invalid, but there is a certain peculiarity in one of the information you collected that caught my attention. " She says, surprising them. "Information given by concierge Illya Markarov, who said he was summoned by Mr. Plisetsky to take care of his grandson while he was smoking outside the wagon at 4 am. Quite peculiar, do not you agree? .Smoking in the cold that made that dawn. Now, let's go to the other detail of the investigation that catches my attention: How did Mr. Feltsman not notice the presence of a murderer in his room, and how did the killer come into his cabin?"

She looks around, smiling at the pale faces of most people around her. I just watch her, also smiling.

"It could have been a lot easier if, for example, a sleeping pill had been put in the bottle of vodka that had been delivered to his cabin, and while he drank, his companion just held the glass, talking and talking about everything and nothing, business, love .. And only one person who had lived with him for a long time could have known that he used to drink vodka every night before going to bed, so that only one person would be in lockout in order to guarantee security, and another to give up the weapon of crime. " She says, making me raise my eyebrows, though I'm smiling.

"You talk like you know where the murder weapon is." Ex-Countess Babicheva says, sullenly.

"Interesting point, little Mila, what if I really have the murder weapon?" She shakes my notebook again and suddenly, instead of it, it appears ... A dagger stained with blood, to the horror of the people around us.

"Yura, close your eyes!" Nikolai screams, covering his grandson's eyes.

"Why, Mr. Plisetsky?" She asks, putting the cigarette in her mouth. "It's not like the boy really did not know what was going on, right, litte Yuri."

"I heard." The boy, who is pale and shaking all over, says. "I heard my grandfather talking to her, her and him."

The boy points at Madame Baranoskaya, the Ex-Countess and Mr. Popovich, who stare at him in shock.

"That's why I wrote a letter asking that ' _he_ ' prevent my grandfather from being a murderer." The boy says, scaring the grandfather.

"Who did you write to, Yuri?"

" _Dear Lupin,_ " The Gran-Duchess begins to say, playing with the dagger. " _Please help grandfather intends to kill someone. I'm sorry for not having anything to pay in return. Yuri R. Plisetsky._ "

"How do you know what was written in my letter, Miss?" The boy asks, surprised.

"Don't worry, little Yuuri. Your request has been fulfilled." She says, getting up.

She hands me the dagger, which I cover with a clean napkin. And then she tosses my notebook into the air to get everyone's attention. When the notebook falls, it is not a woman but an Asian man who picks it up.

"You and the waiter yesterday!" Markarov exclaims, surprised.

"And the concierge this morning." Mr. Popovich says, frowning. "Who are you?"

"My, haven't you noticed yet?" The man, who is using black men's clothes, a cane and a black top hat, looks at me.

"Lupin." I mean, making you smile.

"Right." He says, starting to walk from side to side, playing around with his cane with his right hand. "Curious, little Yuri, is that when you put the letter in the mailbox, I was already watching your grandfather. When I saw him pray for the letter to reach me, I found it super cute and decided to read it and accept the request."

"What are you talking about ?! My grandfather killed that man!" He exclaims, crying.

"Yura ..." Mr. Nikolai says, also crying.

"In fact, Mr. Plisetsky, Mr. Popovich, The Ex-Countess and Madame Baranoskaya did really stabbed Mr. Feltsman. But before I continue to talk about it, let me read another letter, which was sent to me, but which also contains messages directed to all who have been harmed by him and that fucker named Cialdini." He says, with a open white paper with folding marks on his right hand now. " _Mr. Lupin, I write this letter to ask for your help. This letter will be given to someone I know to be of your trust, so I have no doubt that it will reach you safely. It's been a while since I've been receiving death threats and in one of them talks about Cialdini. I know I'm being a hypocrite, and I have no excuse to justify Cialdini's actions._

 _I made many enemies in exchange for the safety of my beloved ex-wife, my daughter who was taken from me as a child, the son I adopted when I met him in the streets of St. Petersburg, my eternal best friend and his grandson._ _Although I regret to know that they also became my enemies and fell into the trap of Cialdini, who under threat of killing our loved ones, controlled gallery owners as he pleased._ _And now, I'm alone at my convenience._ _I'm already dying, so I don't mind knowing someone wants me death, but I would not want those four and no one else to smear their hands with blood because of me._ _So I beg you, please kill me before them._ _You will find all the rest of the stolen objects sealed in my secret warehouse._ _Please return them to their respective owners._ _And pass on my feelings to my daughter in blood, Mila;_ _my pupil who is indeed a son of heart, Georgi;_ _my dear Lilia and my best friend, Nikolai._ _All of you will always be in my heart. And for you, I hope you get back what you rightfully belong to._ _Yakov Petrovich Feltsman._ "

Suddenly, the letter in his hand catches fire, and he kneads the flames as if it were something normal. And then, he blows both hands, raising a white pigeon, to the surprise and joy of people.

"Just as the letter says, Yakov was threatened by Celestino Cialdini, he was not the only one, and everyone knew that he could kill them remember what happened to the Katsukis 12 years ago. none of the robberies of the paintings, only noticing that there was something wrong when Madame Baranoskaya and Mr. Popovich's gallery were robed almost the same time .And then, he decided to get the stolen objects and try to return everything by himself. Unfortunately he only managed to keep the pieces of art that I had not found in Cialdini's possession. " He says, opening the window for the pigeon to get out of the train car. "Taking out the Katsukis paintings, all the objects are safe in the luggage wagon, together with your own luggage, I took the liberty of leaving one of each in your cabins, to relieve your consciences a little. Besides them, I left money in place of the Katsukis paintings. After all they are mine by right. "

"What about my father's death ?! I do not understand!" Mila screams, crying along with Lilia and Georgi.

"Indeed." Lupin says, looking at her seriously. "I'm not a killer, I'm just a thief. As Mr. Feltsman said, he was already dying."

From his hand, a bottle of dark liquid appears. Georgi widens his eyes.

"I remember that bottle! He took it before the vodka came in and told me it was medicine." He exclaims, startled. "That's..."

"Poison." Lupin responds, smiling. "At the request of Mr. Feltsman, I delivered a bottle of this to him yesterday, here in this same wagon." And so, little Yuri, your grandfather and no one else did not commit any murder. Now, how do you feel after all that I said, "Do you feel hate, relief, guilt?"

"Just answer one question, Lupin. Why do you insist that Katsukis paintings belong to you?" Madame Baranoskaya asks, looking at him seriously.

"Because I was a Katsuki before, Madame." He answers, raising his hands, now empty, and bows to everyone. "All of you can now return to your booths and your normal business. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to leave as well."

Lupin walks past me, touching me over his jacket. When I touch that place, I notice that there is something in my inner pocket, and I reach into my pocket, pulling out my notebook I used to write about this case, opened on a page with the words.

 _'I'm waiting for you.'_

Smiling, I return the notebook to my pocket, excuse everyone, already leaving the car. Opening the door to my cabin, I was surprised to see Lupin, my beloved, lying on the bed naked. He closes the door and locks it, starting to undress.

"Finish writing our book. We have all the time in the world for us, Vitenka." I'm listening, surprised.

"Are you sure?" I ask, seeing him smile.

"Sure, I know how important it is for you to write a book about our love and life."

"Yuuri ~!" I exclaim, falling on the bed and hugging him.

He laughs, and fills me with kisses.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And I get up, going to the table, finalizing the story of my new book, naming it…

 _ **The Death Train.**_


End file.
